


Proposal Addict

by anonniemoose



Series: Beetlejuice Oneshots [6]
Category: Beetlejuice (1988), Beetlejuice (TV 1989), Beetlejuice - All Media Types, Beetlejuice - Perfect/Brown & King, Original Work
Genre: Amnesia, Angst, Clones, F/M, Fluff, Mafia AU, Potions, Reader Death, but - Freeform, idk im not a romantic person, is really nothing like him soz?, juno being a bitch, oc based on character from musical, poor attempts at russian through google translate, romance? kinda?, ugh now i need to write the clone falling in love because i love him
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-19
Updated: 2020-03-19
Packaged: 2021-03-01 01:07:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,815
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23206708
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anonniemoose/pseuds/anonniemoose
Summary: Zhuk had this weird obsession with proposing, but it’s not like you minded.Notes: Ok so in a Discord I'm in, we created an Italian Mafia Boss Beetlejuice named Scarafaggio.....from there we just went nuts. Basically, all you need to know is Zhuk is the Russian Don loosely based around Beetlejuice. For all notes please go toherefor more info on all 5 versions of Mafia!Beej.
Relationships: Beetlejuice (Beetlejuice)/Reader, OC/Reader, Zhuk Shoggoth/Reader
Series: Beetlejuice Oneshots [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1562617
Comments: 6
Kudos: 24





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Ok so in a Discord I'm in, we created an Italian Mafia Boss Beetlejuice named Scarafaggio.....from there we just went nuts. Basically, all you need to know is Zhuk is the Russian Don loosely based around Beetlejuice. For all notes please go to [here](https://monsterlovinghours.tumblr.com/post/190008355719/hey-mom-who-are-the-5-mafiabeej-leaders-and) for more info on all 5 versions of Mafia!Beej.
> 
> I also forgot to save my Google translations from the Russian in this one.....but the next chapter I did not forget. Anyway, hope you enjoy!
> 
> You can find me at dilfyjuice on Tumblr!

The two of you had barely started dating when he first asked you. To be fair, he was incredibly drunk and mumbling nonsense in a mix of Russian and English as you carefully led him up the stairs and into his room, umming and ahhing where appropriate as his huge form leans heavily on you, causing you to stumble. That’s when you catch a genuine question through the mess.

_ “Ty tak khorosho zabotish'sya obo mne. Vykhodi za menya, roza?” _ You look up at him in slight confusion.

“Zhuk, I don’t speak Russian remember? Can you repeat it?” You ask him as you push him onto the bed, yelping when his hands grab your wrists to pull you down with him. It takes a few seconds for him to remember what he said and translate it, his face unusually expressive as you watch amused at the sight of him try to use his alcohol-soaked brain.

“Will you marry me?” His words are slurred and his accent his thick, but you know instantly what has been said.

You know that he was too drunk to mean it, and telling him so would just end with him insisting that you were wrong. So, instead, you lean in close to kiss him gently before pulling back. “Ask me again tomorrow.”

“Why?” This was as close to whining at the Russian would ever get to, and you found it adorable. You shrug.

“I might just say yes.” A happy purr radiates from his body as he slowly starts to fall asleep, snoring loudly as his arms keep you trapped against his chest.

After that, it just became a regular occurrence. Zhuk knew he wanted to marry you pretty much the day he met you, and even though you thought he was joking with the constant proposals, it always made him smile that you never said no, just to ask again the next day. Which he did. Every single day.

Sitting next to each other by the fire, reading whilst holding hands? Well, you were reading, Zhuk was looking down at you with a small, fond smile on his face. “ _ Dorogaya? _ ”

“Mm?”

“Will you marry me?”

“Ask me again tomorrow, perhaps then I’ll say yes.” You lock eyes with him, a small smile on your lips as you both allow yourself to feel comfort from the inside joke.

Walking alongside one another in the garden in total silence? Zhuk would always pull you down to sit on one of the few seats and get down on one knee in front of you, a ring made out of strands of long grass he’s picked at in his hands. “Marry me,  _ malishka?” _ You take the ring and put it on calmly before kissing the back of his hand, the smirk on your lips giving away your answer already.

“Ask me again tomorrow,  _ lyubimiy _ . I might just say yes.”

A rare night where you could both just lay in bed together, enjoying each other’s company in silence when suddenly Zhuk says in a quiet voice ‘Y/N,  _ ty lyubov' vsey moyey zhizni, vykhodi za menya zamuzh? _ ’you don’t even need the translation to know what he’s asked.

“Ask me again tomorrow,  _ dorogoi _ , perhaps then I’ll say yes.”

He only ever questioned it once. You wanted to go to a market to check out the stalls, and he never could deny you anything. You were looking over a blurb of an old, worn novel when he asked you quietly. “Marry me,  _ kiska _ ?”

Quickly you reply. “Ask me again tomorrow, I might just say yes.” He chuckles, unable to hold back the smile on his face as you put the book back, clearly not interested once you’d read the back.

“Why is it you never say yes?” You blink as you put your hand around his arm and start to walk towards the next stall. You seem to consider your answer before you finally give it.

“Because I never want to stop hearing you say it.” You finally confess as you meet his eyes briefly, only pulling away when your attention is pulled away from him and towards the seller of the stall.

It was a couple of years before your answer changed. It was nothing special, to be honest, Zhuk thought you were going to say the same mantra you had repeated every day and for once wasn’t going to ask. When you brought it up as you sat comfortably in his lap with his arms around you, you could almost feel the shrug. “Will your answer change if I ask?”

You hum. “You never know until you ask.” He chuckles.

“Marry me,  _ tsarina? _ ”

“Yes.”

There is a pause as he pulls back to look down at you, your face spit with a cheeky grin. Clearly, he wasn’t expecting that and it was a rare occasion you got one up on your partner. “Y/N?” You hum to let him know you’re listening. “Is this-”

“Legit? Uh-huh.” You turn so you are straddling him, arms locked around his neck. “Zhuk,  _ moya lyubov' _ , I love you more than anything else on this earth. Every day with you feels like what heaven should feel like. I want nothing more than to be able to call you my  _ muzh _ . So yes,  _ dorogoy,  _ I’ll marry you.”

Both of you ignore the Irish accented ‘fookin’ finally’ that comes from the room next door as he pulls you down for a slow, deep kiss as he slides the ring that he totally has not been keeping in his pocket for over a year now over your finger.

You figured it’d stop there, you were engaged, why would he continue to ask? But he still did every day. And, just like always, you’d smile and tell him to ask you again tomorrow. During the stress of planning a wedding that was suitable for both of you, it was a nice reminder that through it all, you loved each other. And the comfort you found with your little exchange helped with your pre-wedding jitters. When you wake up the morning of your wedding, you roll your eyes when you see him looking down at you with a small smile on his face.

“Marry me,  _ kroshka? _ ” You snort before moving to snuggle up against him.

“Ask me again in 8 hours. I might just say yes.” You tease before kissing his chest lightly. “I’ll see you at the altar.” You promise as you stand up to get ready. He grumbles as you leave the bed, clearly wanting you to stay with him for a bit longer. “Remember your promise?” You ask just as you throw on your robe and move to sneak back into the master bedroom, your maid of honour insisting the two of you spend the night apart for good luck, even though everyone knew any attempt to keep Zhuk from you would be foolish. What they didn’t count on was you sneaking out to be with him.

“I won’t make you cry.” He repeats the promise you made him make when both of you started to write your vows.

“Good. If anything smudges, you’ll be facing the wrath of my cousin, got it?” You warn playfully before walking back over to the bed and leaning in to kiss him softly. “At the altar?”

“At the altar.” He says against your lips, hands resting over yours. You have to pull away, knowing he won’t be the one to move away first. Once you’re out the door, he falls back onto the bed with a thud. He hated wedding traditions.

The morning was hectic, everyone rushing around to get last-minute preparations organised and to get the two of you where you needed to be on time. It was all a blur for the both of you, being pulled in different directions by different people who seemed to have a better idea of what was going on and what was happening when it was happening and where it was happening. Still, Zhuk stood in front of the mix of both your and his friends and family right on time, just as you were rocking up to be walked down the aisle.

Zhuk rarely cried, and never did so in public. But seeing you in your wedding dress that just seemed to accentuate your beauty and made you, if even possible, even more, perfect than usual in his eyes? He was in awe, and in shock that this was finally, actually happening.

Once he took your hand and lead you up in front of the priest, he couldn’t take his eyes off of you. Everything was muffled. To the point that you had to nudge him when the priest asked him for him to read his vows three times. He could feel the amusement from his comrades but brushed it off as he started to recite the words that took him months to perfect, having annoyed Scarafaggio and Scarabee over it near daily. He just wanted it perfect for you.

"For far many more years than I care to admit, I existed in darkness. I saw the sun but didn't feel its warmth. I knew the stars were there but felt none of their enchantment. You,  _ dorogoy _ , were the light my life was missing. From the moment you set foot into my life, you've been a candle to my darkened soul, a beacon to my lost heart. With you by my side, I have no need of the moon, the sun, or the stars. You are my sun. You are my moon. You outshine all the stars in the night sky. I have asked you many, many times now, darling, if you would marry me, and each time you've smiled and told me to ask you again tomorrow. Even as we stand here, know that I will never stop asking you to be mine, just as I will never stop loving you. _ Moy svet. Moya lyubov'. Moya vse. Moya prekrasnaya zhena _ . Will you marry me?" He squeezes your hand as he finishes, your eyes welling up throughout.

You can’t hold back your tears as he finishes his vows. “You bastard, you swore you wouldn’t make me cry.” You whisper out, causing a chuckle from the crowd. “I’m tempted to say tell you to ask me again tomorrow just to see what you’ll say,” you start as his hand moves up to thumb away your tears, being careful not to smudge anything, “but yes.  _ Moy obozhayushchiy muzh, _ I’ll marry you.”

To be honest, you thought once you were married the proposals would stop, but the only thing that changed was the frequency. Instead of daily, it was near daily.

The first time it happened after the wedding was literally hours after the reception. The both of you decided you needed a minute just to relax and ended up just lying on the bed, you on top of him as you rest your head against his chest, his hands cascading through your hair and tracing nonsense patterns against the skin of your back.

“Marry me,  _ moya zhena? _ ” You look up at him as he just smirked down at you. You roll your eyes.

“We just- We are- Fuck it. Ask me tomorrow. If you’re lucky, I might say yes,  _ moy muzh _ .” You shake your head in amusement as you lean back down.

So it continued, every moment he felt the urge to propose, the words just seemed to slip out. Sometimes, you’d remind him you were already married to which he’d reply “ah. Well that makes me a lucky man. Marry me again,  _ moya zhena? _ ” You’d roll your eyes and tell him to ask again the next day with a small smile and blush across your face. Other times, you’d just tell him to ask again tomorrow, perhaps the answer will be yes. Like your own special declaration of love for one another, only something about it felt deeper than just the two of you saying  _ ya lyublyu tebya. _

Then, it happened. To be fair, it was bound to happen eventually, Zhuk was surprised it took as long as it did, but still, it wasn’t a pleasant experience.

He got hurt.

To be fair, it wasn’t lethal, but it still knocked him around a little bit. By the time he was brought home, he was unconscious with Bee making sure he slept and wasn’t in pain. He was aware that you were in the room with him, his hands itching just to be able to hold yours. He could vaguely hear Scarabee telling you that it was a near miss, that he was incredibly lucky, and that he’d be fine in a couple of days. Your hand slipped into his and his whole body seemed to relax. It always just felt right when your hands were in his.

He slept for what felt like weeks, but was really just a couple of days. You didn’t leave his side once, having one of the staff bring you food, and the other dons would periodically call in to check on you. Still, your hand never left his as you anxiously waited for him to wake up.

It was late, the sun had gone down and you were sleeping when he started to stir. Him squeezing your hand and groaning lowly at the slight pain caused you to wake up with a jolt, but waiting in silence to see if he was alright. His voice is weak, but still, he manages to say what was on his mind. “Marry me,  _ moya prekrasnaya zhena? _ ”

You look at him in disbelief because you start hitting him, each smack feeling like nothing as you continue to slap at his skin, crawling into his lap to get better coverage of his body. “You, you _bastard,_ don’t you come in here with your _moya prekrasnaya zhena_ **bullshit** , you are hurt! You could have died! What the fuck, Zhuk, what the fuck is wrong with you?” You stop hitting him in favour of just laying down on top of him as you start to sob against his skin. “I thought I was gonna lose you. Never seen you so still.” He hushes you as his hands move to squeeze you tight against him.

“You didn’t answer my question,  _ moye solntse i zvezdy.” _ He reminds you gently.

“Ask me again tomorrow, it might be a yes when I’m not pissed off.” You grumble into his skin, causing him to laugh lightly. “Not off the hook, mister.”

“I know,  _ moya zhena, _ I know.”

It was a few weeks later that you celebrated your second wedding anniversary. Both of you decided to go to a smaller part of town to a restaurant both of you liked. You had requested minimum security, just wanting the night to be between you and Zhuk complied. After all, who would go after either of you in a small restaurant in his own district?

Turns out, an idiot would.

You walked out in front of him, thanking him for holding the door and reaching back to link arms with him. He saw your face go from one of pure bliss and happiness to one of pain and confusion before he heard the shots. He yelled for someone to go after the shooter and another to call a medic as he helped you to the ground, ripping your shirt back to see the damage. Bullet was still inside, but you were bleeding out pretty heavily. Clearly, it had nicked an artery, or perhaps even your heart. He didn’t care, he just wanted you to not be in pain. You gasp out loudly as he balls up his jacket and puts pressure on the wound, causing the pain to increase as your blood soaks into the dark fabric. “Zhuk.” Your voice is already weaker than usual. “Zhuk, look at me.”

“You’ll be fine, Y/N.” He assures you. “We will get you to the hospital, they’ll take care of you, just- just- stay with me,  _ please tsarina.” _ He begs. It breaks your heart to hear his voice so weak and broken as if he knows the prognosis without even needing a medic’s opinion. Still, he held onto hope.

Your hand moves up to brush away unshed tears, even though you have to pull back when your muscles become weak. “Zhuk.  _ Moy muzh. _ Will you marry me?” You say with a small smile on your face, tears streaming down your face.

Zhuk tries to blink away the few that are threatening to fall, but they land on your cheeks despite his attempts. “Ask me again tomorrow, I might just say yes.” He says with a broken smile as he pushes down harder.

Your laugh is breathy when you hear your answer, going to reply when you realise it's too hard. You breath one more time, eyes locked on his as you try to portray how much you love him through them before your chest settles, and your eyes go glassy.

The shouting of ‘no, no, no, Y/N,  _ moya zhena _ , please, no’ alerted the paramedics to where you were exactly, rushing in to try and pull your rapidly cooling body away from the sobbing Russian, large body seeming to be impossibly small as he clings to you as if you would wake up in his arms and reassure him it's fine.

Instead, you slept on.


	2. Chapter Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It had been a while since your passing, and Zhuk was not coping. But when he sees you in the Nether, he is overjoyed but quickly discovers that you don’t remember a thing about him. He makes it his mission to try and bring your memories back so the two of you can pick up where you left off.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations are at the end of the chapter. Enjoy.

To say that Zhuk was empty after your passing was, to say the least, an understatement. The longer it took for him to recover, the more concerned the others’ became. But no one could reach out to him, no one could touch him. The already reserved man shut everyone out in fear of being hurt again. The other dons slowly had to take over his workload, originally Zhuk threw himself into his work but eventually? Eventually even that became too much and did nothing to distract him from that one true fact.

You were  _ gone. _

And it was  _ his fault _ .

Not that he ever admitted it to any of his colleagues, but in the early days, he sought out help. He would sneak into the Netherworld and search for you and, once he realised that the Nether was too vast for him to search alone, he went to the one person that he knew you would have had to have seen before coming here.

His mother.

Juno was less than impressed to see her son at her door, begging, weak. Not what she taught him to be at all. She accosted him, making it known that he was no son of hers. When he informed her that he didn’t want a family reunion, just to know if she had seen you, she sneered.

“Why would I get myself involved with your stupid little whore. You knew the risks of being with a breather, she probably never wants to see her again. You  _ did _ kill her after all. So pathetic. Like you've always been."

Zhuk didn’t even try to fight, already having accepted her words as the truth as he left, the sinking feeling in his stomach confirming his worst fears. He was never going to see you again.

More time went by and Zhuk remained in a fog, unable to move forward or on. He  _ killed _ the  _ love of his afterlife _ . How can anyone move on from that?

Eventually, however, the boys decided that it was in his best interest that he, at the very least, left the manor grounds. Even getting him to leave his bedroom, office and the smoking-room was work enough, so they knew they had to have a good enough reason to get him out and away from their home. Luckily, something came up for Gio where he would need the help of all of the dons, Zhuk included.

All of them hated having to work in the Netherworld but, unfortunately, it was a part of their job. There had been a turf war in Gio’s territory and he needed to go down there to ensure that everyone knew that the area was his and his alone. Having as much support from the other mobs would help prevent this from happening again. They all knew this, Zhuk knew this, and he was always willing to do anything to help out his comrade.

Luckily for him, Zhuk’s stoney face as he continues to drown in his self-pity and self-hatred is scary enough that he doesn’t have to put on an act as his eyes look around the park they happened to be in at the time.

His undead heart seems to stop. Is that? No. It couldn’t be.

It  _ was _ .

His  _ zhena _ was right there, across the park, clearly just looking around the area. But she was there. Right in front of him.

He couldn’t stop himself, he just had to touch her again. He walks his way over and, without a word, pulls her into his arms, once feeling her there, where she belonged, saying the words “ _ moya zhena, moya zhena _ ” over and over into her hair. He found her! After what felt like an eternity, he finally found h-

The sound of her hand hitting his cheek breaks him from his stupor. He pulls back and, for the first time, registers something he didn’t before.

She’s  _ green _ .

All over.

His unbeating heart sinks into the floor. He knew she was dead but this? Seeing her like this? It was possibly his worst nightmare coming to life.

“-now I don’t know who raised you, or what the fuck a moya zeena is, but you don’t go up to people and just crush them!” Oh. Her voice. It felt so good just to hear her voice again. Even if the words cause his heart to ache.

Zhuk just stares down at her, confusion evident on his face. “ _ Moya zhe-, Y/N _ , it’s  _ me _ .” He insists, his heartache clearly evident in his voice. “ _ Roza, moya lyubov' _ , it’s Zhuk.  _ Tvoy muzh.  _ Your husband.” He translates for you. “ _ Roza _ , please stop this game. I’ve missed you so much, this is just cruel.” He still can’t quite, and doesn't want to, process it. He thought losing you in his arms was his worst nightmare come to life. But you standing in front of him, a confused expression on your face as you clearly don’t recognise him, incredibly dead because of  _ him. _ It feels like his own personal hell. “Do you recognise me, Y/N?” He asks, slightly broken. He shoves off a hand to his arm, one of his colleagues clearly trying to get him away from you.

You look up at him for a few more seconds. “I’m sorry, but I don’t and I’m pretty sure I’d remember marrying someone.” Your voice and face are soft, clearly trying to reassure him. “I’m sorry, I think you have the wrong person. But I hope you find your wife again.” You smile, hoping it’s the end of the conversation.

He feels his dead heart beat. Your smile always brought life into him. No. No he  _ can’t _ lose you again. Not when you are so close to him, right in front of him. “Y/N L/N.” He states bluntly, using your maiden name. “You don’t like tea, you used to get frustrated because whenever I made coffee it was never right. You find a restaurant, find what you like, and then only have that item every time you go to that restaurant, but you still insist on looking through the entire menu. You had a dog called Baxter who you found annoying but whenever you spoke of him you always smiled. You love dresses but hate it when people buy you clothes unless you really trust them. You love heels because they make you feel tall, but always need someone to rub your feet when the night is over. You have a small scar on your elbow from when you feel over when you were 10 and landed in some glass. You cry whenever an animal dies in a movie but if it's a person, you think it's hysterical.” He starts to list off, clearly getting more and more desperate the more he talks, not realising that you are beginning to step away and Ciarog is gently trying to get him to shut up and move away from you. “When you’re drunk, you would cling to my legs and insist that I go get you something from McDonalds, the entire time chanting what you wanted and the word ‘McDonalds’ as loud as you possibly could. You’d always fall asleep halfway through eating your meal. You wake up irritable until after you’ve had your first coffee, and then you are ready to hold a conversation.  _ Please, roza, it's me.” _ He begs, facts about you still running through his head.

You look terrified, something that makes his heart sink. “Look, I don’t know what kind of stalker you are, but stay  _ away _ from me.” You hiss, taking a step back when Zhuk takes one forward. “No. No, don’t touch me. I don’t  _ know _ you and I don’t know why you think I do but do not talk to me again. Ever.” You insist before walking away quickly, clearly scared but not wanting to make Zhuk feel like he had any power over you.

Only, Zhuk didn’t feel powerful. He felt like his entire world was crumbling around him once more. Eventually, he lets himself be tugged away, not realising the concern on the fellow dons’ faces when his hair, that had been purple for months and was momentarily green, was slowly but surely, fading into an emotionless black.

Zhuk kept it from the dons, but he kept coming back to you. Bringing small mementos to try and jog your memory along. Photos of your wedding, your engagement and wedding rings, small snapshots that Bajo and Cia had gotten for him when the two of you were so enwrapped with each other that you didn’t realise that they were there with a camera. You both looked so in love, but you remained unconvinced. You let him talk to you, bring back memories and once it was all over you’d remind him. He had the wrong person. As time went on, it became a thing of ‘listen to him so he can get out’, and Zhuk began to pick up on it. He swung by once more in time to see you kiss someone goodbye. He felt his heart snap in two. In his arms was your wedding dress, hoping that that might jog some memories. But seeing you so happy in the arms of another man, with the same look that you used to give him? It was too much. He felt his shoulders sag in defeat, he would never win you back. Slowly, his body starts to go numb, every memory he had of you rushing in his mind as he realises. He will never have that again. When you were dying in his arms, he thought he would never get to see you smile, never get to hear your laugh. Seeing you again gave him hope that, perhaps, things could return to normal. But now you are laughing with someone else, smiling at someone else. And he doesn’t want to be the cause of your heartache, he doesn’t want you to hurt like he has hurt. As much as he wants you back, your happiness was paramount to him. He wasn’t above begging, not when it came to you. But. He was too broken for that. So broken that if you rejected him once more, he is sure he would go off the deep end. Within seconds, he’s made up his mind as he allows his heart and mind to fall into a state of numbness, clicking his fingers so the dress in his arms disappears back into its rightful place in your closet in his bedroom. There is no going back now.

He has to let you go.

He sees your resignation and forced smile when you see him and tell him to come in. He holds up his hand.

“I’ve come to apologise.” He says quietly, eyes not quite meeting yours. “I’m sorry for hurting you, I’m sorry that I bothered you with my stories. I see now that you were correct, you were not the person I was looking for. I promise you won’t have to see me anymore, and I will leave you in peace.” He continues on. And it's true. In his mind, you are someone else. Someone from before you met him, someone who now, thanks to his clumsy attempt at trying to make you his again, he’d never have. Clearly, you were interested in someone else. And, perhaps, it was for the best that he’d leave you. He had his time with you, and he had his memories of you. That would just have to do for the rest of his death.

A small, warm smile graces your lips, clearly relieved. You reach out to squeeze his hand. “Thank you. I’ve enjoyed your memories, but you need to move on.” You say softly. “Goodbye, Zhuk. I hope you find your someone soon.” You close the door softly.

Zhuk sighs, hand feeling slightly warm from where you touched him. The first place you ever touched him, and now your last. “Goodbye,  _ moya zhena _ .” He whispers before turning to leave. Yes. This was for the better. It was over. He was foolish for getting involved with someone so fragile anyway.

With that, he turns and makes his way back to the manor. Time to move on.

That’s when his mother started to visit.

Juno, at the best of times, was a bitch. But now she knew about him getting involved with a breather? Oh, she was going to have fun with this.

At first, she started making it appear that you returned to him, having you run in the door and into his arms and, just as his hair started to tinge green once more, you would disappear, die, fade away, once more in his arms. “This is what happens when you marry a breather.”

Time went on and the more she visited, the more creative she became. Once her illusions ceased to work, she would just arrive and berate him. Zhuk, the tallest man in the conglomerate, had never felt so small in his entire life.

It wasn’t until Scarabee walked by one day to hear her voice did the truth come out. The Southerner paused and walked backwards, listening in on what she had to say.

“-always been unlovable. Who’d love a demon? A pathetic little breather? Zhuk, I raised you better than to be so pathetic, so stupid. Although, how cruel do you have to be to bring someone so weak into the life you lead?” Her face is twisted into a cruel smirk, and Bee knows instantly that she has had her hand in this, more so than she has let on. “You really thought you were capable of loving? Zhuk,  _ you’re my son. _ You were born with a dead heart, you were bred to be intimidating, brutal,  _ cold. _ You really thought you could sustain such warmth? Such tenderness? Such devotion? Foolish little boy. You were born unloved, you died unloved and no matter if you stay topside of down below, you will spend eternity unloved and undeserving. That is all you were ever meant for. And all you will  _ ever _ be.”

Zhuk doesn’t fight back, body still slumped as he just takes it all, listening to every word. Finally, he talks. Voice void of emotion, only this time, even Bee can’t tell what he’s feeling. Before, he always had an inkling of what was hidden behind his words. But this time? Bee couldn’t figure it out no matter how hard he tried. “I know, Mother.” Is all that comes from his mouth.

Bee is not a hugely sentimental man. But in that second, he felt his dead heart ache. No. No, this is not how this was supposed to end for him. Not for Zhuk, who deserved so much more than this.

He kept his discovery to himself, trying to piece together what happened in order for you to have forgotten Zhuk, and your previous life together. It was evident that Juno was involved, but using the wrong potion or spell could make the situation worse, not fix it.

Barely a day passed, Bee was putting all of his time and effort into figuring this out for his friend. He sent his clones out to gather as much information as they could find but they came back with nearly nothing. You arrived in the Netherworld, as per usual, with your latest memory being that of the hour before you met Zhuk and then dying in some street, alone, some years later. It was true that you could lose some memory after your death, but never something so specific. They spoke about how you were now seeing another dead guy by the name of Danny that must have died around the same time as you, as no one recognised him. At all.

The whole situation confused Bee, he spent hours pouring over his books, trying to see if there was a cure all for their situation. There never was, and this was not an exception.

It took him forever to realise that there was someone behind him as he leafs through another book, until a particularly deep sound of someone clearing his throat fills the room.

He was tall. That was the first thing Bee noticed. Not as tall as any of the Wasps or even as tall as Zhuk, but he still carried quite a few inches on Bee. His eyes were a light brown and his hair was messy and black. Another thing that was very evident when you looked at him was that he was very much dead. “Hello, I’m Clone 31.” He introduces, his Russian accent thick. He takes a deep breath, clearly nervous. “You may know me as Danny.”

“You.” Bee seethes. Within seconds, Danny is held down by his shadows as he approaches with his cane. “What are you doin’ here?” He growls. “Not a smart move, walkin’ into the lion’s den.” If Danny could go any more pale, he would have. Still. He tries to remain calm. A bit hard to do with a Southerner who is well equipped with Voodoo is currently pinning you to the ground with invisible shadows and a cane as he prepares to find a way to destroy you, but Danny makes do with what he can.

“ _ Ya znayu, vy dumayete, chto ya zdes', chtoby prichinit' yemu bol', no ya zdes', chtoby pomoch' vam i pomoch' yey.” _ He states, falling back into his native Russian out of fear, even though he does a good job to keep it out of his voice.

Bee’s eyes narrow. He couldn’t trust him or his word, could he? This was just another one of Juno’s tricks, surely. Still. He needed every bit of information he could get, and perhaps Clone 31 could be the one to help him. “ _ U tebya pyatnadtsat' minut.” _ He states, pulling up a chair for the taller man, returning to sit on the other side of his desk, ready to hear what he has to say. His shadows are at the ready if at any case Danny proves to be a threat to the don.

Danny sits down quietly, regaining his thoughts before he starts to talk. “I’m one of Juno’s clones. Zhuk’s Juno.” He states plainly. “She. When Y/N died, she grabbed her and pulled her aside and gave her this tea that made her forget about anything Juno wanted her to forget about. She made her forget about Zhuk. The whole plan was for him to be so distracted that she would be able to take over his mob or something, use it to gain a bit more control over the Netherworld. But. Then you guys stepped in, started helping him out. She thought.” He swallows, taking another second to figure out what he’s trying to say. “She thought that if he knew he’d lost her forever, that he’d be so far gone you guys would be too distracted to help him get back up that she’d not only be able to take over his mob, but the entire Shoggoth empire. She wanted to destroy you guys completely and utterly. And she was going to use Zhuk and Y/N to do it.” There is a couple of seconds of silence before he continues again, fidgeting quietly, as if waiting for Juno to appear and end him there and then. “She created me to go and basically woo Y/N. Slipped her a little drink to make it easier for me to do so. It worked, Zhuk caught us eventually and she knew he’d go in too hard, too fast and push Y/N away from him and towards me. Once it was all done, I was to return. I told her there was a chance Zhuk could come back, so I’ve been protecting Y/N ever since.”

Bee taps his fingers on his desk as he listens, unsure if he fully believes what he has to say. “Why should I believe you? Why come to us  _ now _ and tell me this?”

Danny smiles softly. “She’s kind. Too kind. And, I don’t think she ever forgot about him.” He admits. “She deserves better than what Juno has in store for her. Did you know she gave me my name?” He asks, looking up at him and making direct eye contact for the first time. “Bezstradaniy.” He says quietly. “That’s what I want her to be.  _ Bez stradaniy.” _ He takes a deep breath. “And I’m unable to provide that for her.”

Bee stays silent for several minutes. “The tea Juno gave her to drink.” He starts slowly. “Do you remember what it looked like?”

Danny thinks for a second. “It was before my time but. Clone 23 helped make it. She said it was this weird purple colour, with green flecks. And it was thick, like corn syrup, and smelt like mint and honey.” He recalls. “If you looked at it for long enough, the reflection would change into you as you picture yourself.” He adds quietly. Clone 23 was freaked out when she looked in and saw herself as a god. If Juno found out about that, Clone 23 would have been dead within the hour.

Bee nods. That’s all the information he needs. “Thank you for your time. You may leave.” He nods towards the door.

Danny looks confused. “You’re….. _ not _ going to kill me?” He asks, clearly convinced that he would not have left this manor alive once he got here.

“No, but if you make me regret it I will quickly change my mind.” He warns. Danny nods before rushing out the door and out of the manor. No need to upset the demon again. He gets to the edge of the grounds and he looks around. He can’t go back to the Nether, not after Juno finds out what he’s done. And he can’t stay topside forever, people will wonder why he isn’t alive or necessarily human. So. Now what?

Now that Bee knows what he’s working with, he is quick to act. Putting together ingredient after ingredient into a small case, he is quick to go down to the Nether. You never saw him with Zhuk, so you wouldn’t know that he was with him.

You were easy to find, you were predictable after all. You had your routine and once you found it, you stuck to it. He found you at the same park Zhuk first saw you in, still very much dead, only this time, very much upset and confused. Ah. Danny must have ended your relationship before he came to Bee.

You looked lost, confused. Like you weren’t expecting it. You weren’t crying, but it is evident that you have been. Bee decides to very much use your confusion to his advantage. He puts on his usual charming smile and walks up towards and past you, making a show of pausing and walking back. “Y/N? Y/N L/N? As I decay and rot, how are you? I can’t believe that I’ve ran into you after all this time!” He moves to sit next to you, making it out that he’s upset that you aren’t excited to see him. “Don’t you remember me,  _ cher? _ Scarabee?”

You squint at him. The name sounded familiar, and his face seemed to ring some bells in the back of your mind. You smile up at him and wipe the base of your eyes. “Sorry I have been having a rough day.” You explain. “But yes, Scarabee! How are you? It feels like an age.”

Bee grins when you call him by his full name. Oh, you had no idea at all. He was  _ loving _ this. His face quickly changes to one of concern. “Oh? Oh darlin’, I’m so sorry, you must be in such a state.” He makes it look like he’s considering something before looking back over at you. “How about I come over and you can tell me all about it, hm? Might make you feel better to get it off your chest.”

You hesitate. You couldn’t remember this man and you weren’t sure if you were comfortable bringing him into your home. But. Something about sitting with him, talking to him. It felt  _ right _ and listening to him felt like it was the  _ right thing to do. _ Your gut is telling you to agree whilst your mind is screaming no.

You go with your gut.

“Sure. It’d be good to catch up.” You say with a half a smile, standing as Bee does the same. You lead him to your house and once inside, he insists on making you a drink when you offer to make one for him. He spent what felt like forever pottering about in your kitchen as you wait patiently in the dining room until, finally, he comes back with two cups of….something.

It looked vile.

It looked thick, with gold sitting at the bottom of a sea-green liquid that was somehow cold and yet bubbling. It smelt like off milk and looked like it had massive chunks in it. You couldn’t drink that. Who knows what it’ll do to you.

“ _ Cher? _ ” He asks, looking awfully sad. “You’re not going to drink it?”

You go to tell him that you were grateful for him to spend the time making you a drink, but you are actually not thirsty when you stumble over your thoughts, before the words could even leave your system. He  _ did _ spend an awful lot of time making the drink. Perhaps one sip would suffice, and keep him from being upset.

You lift the drink to your lips, trying your hardest not to breathe through your nose. It tasted like oranges and mango, which was a little different. The other thing that was different was you lift it for a sip and yet someone the entire concoction ended up down your throat. You gag at the texture as it makes its way down your throat. It's slimy, chunky and disgusting to feel in your mouth, leaving an oily sheen. The moment it hits your stomach, your head starts to throb as you lay it on your table, groaning lowly. It felt like your head was going to cave in from the pressure. It hurt, almost as much as it did when you were sho-

You sit up, startling the concerned Scarabee who was standing near you with his hand on your back. “I wasn’t alone.” Is all you get out. The don looks down at you confused. “When I died. I wasn’t alone.” Your breath is laboured as you try to piece all the information storming its way into your head. “Zhuk.” Is all you get out, turning to face Bee. “You gotta get me to Zhuk.”

When you arrive at the manor, Bee helps you find the still down Russian. You freeze when you walk through the door. His  _ hair _ was pitch black with nothingness. You swallow.  _ You _ caused this.  _ You _ hurt him. Bee told you time and time again as you were making your way back that it wasn’t your fault, it was Juno’s but still. You had to hold some of the blame. At least for now.

You tentatively walk up to where he is sitting, his body curled in on itself as he continues to mourn and mope. You hestientavly reach out to place a hand on his upper arm and start talking to him.

" _ Moy muzh _ ?"

He sighs. "Go away Mother, your tricks won't work on me this time."

He sounds so empty, you feel awful. You did this to him. Still, you need to see him well. Anything that comes after this? Well, that can wait until later. "Zhuk,  _ moya lyubov' _ it's me." You move to be in front of him. His eyes look pained when he sees you. "I remember. I remember everything."

"Lies."

"Zhuk, your mother has been playing us from the beginning. I promise you I'm real. Ask Scarabee, he came and helped me." You've never seen him cry out of sadness before, but sure enough, tears start to stream. " _ O, moya dorogaya, mne tak zhal', chto ya zastavil tebya tak sebya chuvstvovat'. Pozhaluysta, ne plach', ya tak sil'no tebya lyublyu, i ya ne khotel by, chtoby ty plakal. _ " You grab his hands and squeeze. "Please look at me."

"I won't."

"Why not?"

"It hurts too much." You swallow as a pang of pain ripples through you, hand moving up to cup his cheek and wipe away some of his tears.

"Zhuk?" He doesn't reply but you know he's listening. "Ask me to marry you."

"Why?"

"Please?"

He pauses before sighing. "Y/N, will you marry me?"

"If you ask again tomorrow, I might just say yes." You repeat your old mantra without hesitation. His eyes snap open as they begin to water over again, this time out of joy, hair slowly bleeding to a bright green for the first time in what felt like an eternity.

" _ Moya zhena _ ?" He asks in complete disbelief. You nod, cupping his face as you move to rest your forehead against his.

"It's me, Zhuk. I'm back." You barely finish your sentence before his lips are on yours, years of emptiness being washed away when he realises that this was not his fault, he has you back. Yes, you're dead, but you are still by his side and that's all that matters right now. You eventually pull back and sigh with a small smile on your face. "Zhuk?"

"Mm?"

"Marry me?"

"Of course,  _ roza _ , as many times as you wish."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ****
> 
> **Translations:** ****
> 
> **Name:**
> 
> **Bezstradaniy - Bez stradaniy - without suffering**
> 
> ****Sentences (In Order of Appearance):** **
> 
> **I know you think I'm here to hurt him, but I'm here to help you and help her.**
> 
> **You have fifteen minutes.**
> 
> **Oh, my darling, I'm so sorry I made you feel like this. Please don't cry, I love you so much and I'd hate to see you cry.**


End file.
